


Night Terrors

by paroxferox



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Nightmares, Protective Natasha, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paroxferox/pseuds/paroxferox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint doesn't always sleep well after New York.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Terrors

More often than not, Clint wakes up panting and sweating. It hasn’t been long enough after New York that he can’t still feel it: the pressure in the back of his head, the feeling that someone is  _still in there_  watching him. He knows he’s safe, because Thor has promised he can’t sense any traces of Asgardian magic on him. And because he’s had scans done by three separate neurologists. Nobody’s taking chances.

But it doesn’t stop the dreams, the nightly memory of being ripped out of his own skull while someone else’s control is poured into his bones. The helplessness as a stranger commits grand theft body and uses his own hands to rip apart things he cares about. He doesn’t know if he screams in his sleep – he hopes he doesn’t – but when he jolts himself awake, he cracks his head on the wall and swears. It’s enough to wake up anyone in the room next door.

He focuses on getting his breathing under control, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heels of his hands into them so hard he sees bright points of light. His head hurts where he hit it against the wall, and his chest is still tight with anxiety. “ _Christ_ ,” he mumbles. He’s so tense he’s shaking. It’s bad, probably the worst it’s been in a while.

“Clint?”

Natasha’s an expert at opening doors silently, and Clint  _jumps_ , whirling to face her as she slips into the room. He knows it’s her immediately, but it doesn’t stop his heart from hammering. He wills himself calmer.

Her expression is as unfathomable as ever as she closes the door behind her and heads for Clint’s bunk. He has to pull his legs to his chest to make room for her to sit down; quarters on the Helicarrier are comfortable enough, but not intended for long-term use. Or two people.

“Hey.” He manages a weak smile.

“Hey yourself.”

It’s all she says for a long time, sitting in silence with her eyes on Clint. Clint focuses on getting his breathing under control, forcing himself to relax. Having Nat in the same room helps him think.  _She’s_  real.  _She’s_  here. Eventually, he’s calm enough to scoot to the end of the bed and lean against her. She puts an arm around his back.

“Bad dreams?” Almost sympathy.

“Mm.”

“ _That_  dream?” Actual sympathy.

“Mm.”

The arm around him tightens for a moment, and then Nat is resting her head on his shoulder. Her breath is warm on his neck. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t have to say more than that. Nat lies down, pulling Clint with her and wrapping her arms around his waist. Clint allows himself the vulnerability. Natasha’s breathing is calm behind him, her chest rising and falling against his back in a steady rhythm. Clint does his best to match it.

“You okay?” Her voice is a nearly inaudible whisper.

“No.”

“Think you can sleep?”

“Maybe.”

“Try?”

“Yeah.”

Eventually, he does.


End file.
